After The Boom
by whatevs-trev
Summary: What should have happened after Richard Castle saved a very naked Detective Beckett from her bathtub… Set at the end of 2X17 Tick Tick Tick, and continuing into 2X18 Boom


After the Boom

_**Authors Note**_

_**This is my first attempt at Fan Fiction, so be nice to me guys. What should of happened after Richard Castle saved a very naked Detective Beckett from her bathtub… I've had this idea for a while. The first chapter is pretty much canon, except for a few parts towards the end. This will really start to be my own story once I hit chapter 2. Any reviews would be greatly appreciated. Thanks **___

"Come on, Beckett, pick it up. Pick up the phone! Pick it up!" Richard Castle almost screamed the last sentence, panic utterly and completely welling up inside his chest. It wasn't him. Ben Conrad wasn't the killer. The killer hell bent on killing _his_ muse. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have thought that she would be safe?

Almost in a frantic panic, he dialed her number again. "What Castle?" Came the somewhat grumpy response from the other end of the phone. Relief so powerful it almost crushed him came pouring in, so much so he almost forgot the reason he was calling, the reason he was in this situation. Kate Beckett's voice just had that effect on him.

"Kate, it wasn't him," he chocked out, finally remembering the reason he was running down the street at 2am, puzzled looking New Yorkers staring at him. "Ben Conrad, he wasn't the killer! The killer's STILL alive. The killer's STILL alive"

He could hear her sudden gasp of breath, just as he rounded the corner to where her apartment was located. He could hear something else on the phone, something that sounded awfully like " Goodbye Nikki. Goodbye Nikki."

Then Richard Castle's world exploded into flames. Boom.

The sound of the explosion ripped through the night air, displacing the normal sounds of the city. The honks of the cars and the sound of people shouting out were consumed in this wave of noise. It hit him like a bullet in the chest, just as the flames blew out the window, scattering glass over the pavement like a child chucking confetti at a passing parade. For a moment, he could hear nothing but the pounding of his heart as he watched the apartment consumed by this fiery inferno. A single word dripped from his lips. "Kate."

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Kate Beckett opened the door to her somewhat tiny, two-bedroom apartment. She loved the city, but even she had to admit that the rent was a bitch, especially on police salary. Considering how many dumpsters she'd climbed in over the course of her career, she had half a mind to walk up to the mayor's office and demand a pay rise. But, since that was never going to happen, she would have to live with this apartment in, how to put this delicately, not the best part of town, and sacrifice a few meals for the sake of her clothes.

Going around to all of the windows, she checked to make sure they were all secure. Deadbolts were a standard issue in this part of town, with the crime rate what is and all. Kate smirked at herself as she checked the last window. All secure. There was just something about this last case, something that crawled beneath her skin.

But she was being paranoid. They caught the killer. Everything was wrapped up with a pretty little bow on top, ready for Agent Shaw and the rest of the FBI to take credit for. Not that she cared. Of course not. They caught the killer, all the rest was details. Although, she was wondering if they could borrow that fancy new murder board for a little bit… After all, they did just catch a serial killer and all.

Walking through to her bathroom, Kate had to admit the bathtub in the apartment was almost worth the exuberant rent. Cast Iron, large enough to fit two in (and she had a few thoughts in the past about who to share it with), it was the perfect way to relax after the day she had.

She turned the hot water on, waiting almost a minute before the old pipes of the building finally gurgled up some deliciously hot water; she stepped under the old showerhead. The hot water drizzled down her body slowly, almost burning her. It felt so good though, like she was burning off the remaining odor of the case from her body, allowing her to relax.

Just when she was about to give in completely to the utter pleasure that was her shower, her phone started ringing. It was that annoying ringtone Castle had changed on her phone one afternoon when she left him alone at her desk for too long. Every time he called, the dulcet tones of Sir Mix-a-Lots Baby Got Back would pelt out of those speakers. She'd only left that tone on his name after multiple threats he'd change it to something even worse if she changed it. And knowing Castle, he'd make good on that threat.

She let the phone ring through once, knowing it would go straight through to voicemail. It was probably just Castle ringing AGAIN to pester her about something Agent Shaw did, or something Agent Shaw said. Wasn't a plain old New York City detective good enough for him anymore? Albeit, she didn't have a fancy murder board or services, but they still solved the case. Together.

The second time he called, Kate knew she would have to answer that goddam bloody phone. Regretfully turning off that beautiful, beautiful shower, she snatched the phone off her bathroom vanity.

"What Castle?" she snapped down the phone. All she could hear was heavy breathing from the other end of the phone. Was he running somewhere? It was like 2am in the morning!

"It wasn't Ben Conrad! He's not the killer! The killer's still alive! The killer's still alive!" Came Castle's voice, panic almost dripping from his tone. Then she heard the beeping.

"Goodbye Nikki. Goodbye Nikki," was ringing in her ears, the words oddly metallic as she turned and dived into that big old sturdy tub.

Boom.

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Castle almost dropped his phones, the sounds from around him rushing back in. A woman was standing near him, almost screaming her lungs out in pure terror. All around him, people were coughing, and looking up in amazement at the building alight in front of them. "Kate," he sighed, his voice so soft it was almost a whisper. And without further ado, he sprinted into the building.

He almost floated up the four flights of stairs to her apartment; barely believing it was the same place he'd been in less than 24 hours before. Stopping in front of his door, he shouted out "Kate! Are you in there? Kate!"

Taking a few steps back from the door, he leveled his shoulder and ran at the door. Ryan and Esposito broke down doors all the time. How hard could it be, really? As soon as his shoulder hit the door, he knew the answer to that question. A lot. "Ouch."

Coughing from the waves of acidic smoke that came washing over him as the door burst forward off its hinges, he ran forward. Oh god, what if she was dead? What if there was nothing left of the woman he l…. the woman he cared about so much, but a pile of ash? The panic rose up within him again, as the taste of bile burst up his throat. Retching to keep himself from vomiting, he yelled out again "Kate!"

He could faintly hear a coughing sound coming from the direction of her bathroom, next to the kitchen. Or rather, what was left of the kitchen. Then suddenly, he heard a voice.

"Castle?"

"Kate! Oh thank God, you're alive!" He almost shouts with relief, pushing his way through the debris of the living room. She's alive. His heart is almost singing with joy, the relief so palpable it feels like his heart is about to beat out of his chest.

Pushing aside the remainder of the bathroom door, he was confronted with a site he did not expect to see, even in his wildest fantasy. Kate Beckett was sitting in her bathtub, as naked as the day she was born. Even just the sight of her was enough to make his poor heart beat even faster. Honestly, it felt like the damn thing was going to leap out and do the tango!

"And you're naked." He said turning around as fast as he could, trying to erase the pictures that even that brief glance of her naked chest had erupted into his brain. Even in his wildest fantasy….

"Got a real knack for stating the obvious there, Castle." Kate observed from the shelter of the tub. "Could you pass me a towel please?"

Castle turned around franticly, looking for some linen to cover that perfect, unbelievably… NO! He yelled in his head! Look for a towel, dumbnut. Do not think about your partner, sitting there absolutely naked… Shaking his head again, he spotted a pile of towels, alight.

"Ah, the towels may be on fire," he said, resisting the urge to turn his head to look again. Maybe another little sneak peek wouldn't hurt….

"What about my bathrobe?" she asked again.

"Do you own anything that isn't flammable?" he fired back, the annoyance making him turn around to look at her directly. Bad idea. Definitely a bad idea.

"Pass me your coat then," she ordered. "And no peeking."

Castle stripped off his coat, passing it back to her, his eyes never leaving that point directly in front of him. One glance was enough to get his pulse racing. The second glance was enough to make his heart skip a beat. He didn't think his cardiovascular system could withstand another glance at that perfect, perfect skin and the woman it covered.

"Castle." There came that voice again. That voice with so much power over him. "I think I sprained my ankle when I leaped into the tub. Do you think you could carry me?"

"Carry you?" Castle asked back with a gulp. "I think so…"

"Okay, lets give it a try then. Don't worry, I've got that coat of yours on nice and tight." She replied back.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Castle turned around. True to her world, Beckett had covered herself almost completely with his coat. Leaning over, he reached underneath her legs, resting one hand on her back. "You're lucky Alexis never wanted to walk anywhere when she was little," he said as he scooped her up from the tub. "I am an expert in carrying people."

Trying not to think of what lay beneath that one layer of cloth in-between his hand and her back, he carried out of the door, away from the wreckage that was once the home of Kate Beckett, homicide detective of the NYPD 12th precinct. He knew that she didn't live here anymore, and never would. Her apartment was now the victim of a serial killer hell bent on killing Nikki Heat. The character he created. The character he was responsible for.

It was going to be a good day when he finally put this son-of-a-bitch away where he deserved.

_**Thanks for reading. Review! **___


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